AN INTERRUPTED DREAM
A week passed, a week of lazy luxury between cool linen sheets for
Lucia, and she enjoyed her rest to its fullest extent. Every one in
the convent, which was now a hospital, and running smoothly with
capable American nurses, made a great fuss over her, and she had so
much care that sometimes she was just the least bit bored. When the
week was over, and she was feeling herself again, she grew restless and
clamored to get up. Even the sheets, and the delicious things she had
to eat, could not keep her contented. At last the Doctor said she
might go out for a few hours into the sunshine, and the whole hospital
hummed with the news.
Maria, in a white apron and cap, helped her dress, and went with her
down the stone steps and out into the convent garden.
The first thing that met her eye was Garibaldi, clean and lazy, lying
contentedly in the sun. She came over and seemed delighted to see her
mistress once more.
"But you are so clean, my pet!" Lucia exclaimed. "And your coat looks
as if it had been brushed," she added, wonderingly.
Maria laughed.
"It was. The big American, Señor Lathrop, makes so much fuss over her,
you would think she was a fine horse."
"What about Señor Lathrop?" a laughing voice demanded. "Oh, drat this
language, I keep forgetting." He stopped and then said very slowly in
Italian: "Good morning, how are you this morning?"
"Oh, I am very well, and you," Lucia replied, "you have been very good
to take such care of Garibaldi."
"Garibaldi? I don't understand," Lathrop replied.
Lucia pointed to the goat and said slowly. "That is her name."
"Name! The goat's name Garibaldi!" Lathrop exclaimed, and added in
English, "Well I'll be darned!"
"Not just Garibaldi," Lucia corrected him. "Her name is 'The
Illustrious and Gentile Señora Guiseppe Garibaldi,' but we call her
Garibaldi for short."
Lathrop understood enough of her reply to catch the name. He threw
back his head and laughed uproariously.
"All that for a goat! No wonder she was a good sport with a name like
that to live up to!"
He stood for a long time looking at the poor, shaggy animal before him,
then he laughed again and went into the convent.
"He is a funny man," Lucia said wonderingly. "Why should he laugh
because of Garibaldi's name?"
"Oh, he meant no disrespect," Maria reasoned. "Americans all laugh at
everything. The nurses are the same, they are always laughing. If
anything goes wrong and I want to stamp my foot, they laugh."
Lucia was somewhat mollified. "What is the news?" she demanded, "I
have been up there in my little room for so long, no one would tell me
anything. Sister Francesca would smile and say, 'Everything is for the
best, dear child,' when I asked for news of the front, and I was
ashamed to ask again, but you tell me."
"Oh, there is nothing but good news," Maria replied. "We are gaining
everywhere. The night after the battle, some of our soldiers built a
bridge over the river and crossed, and when the Austrians rallied for a
counter-charge they were ready for them and took them by surprise."
Maria paused, and her eyes filled with tears. "And only think, Lucia,
if you had not destroyed the bridge and warned the Captain of the
beggar man, we might have been taken by surprise, and Cellino would be
an Austrian village. Oh, I tell you the ward rings with your praise.
The men talk of nothing else."
"Nonsense, I did not do it alone. How about your Roderigo? He is the
one who deserves the praise. But tell me, how is my soldier of the
pennies? I am never sure that the Doctor tells me truly how he is."
"Why do you call him 'your soldier of the pennies'?" Maria asked. "His
name is Captain Riccardi, and he is very brave. Every one knows about
him, and some of the boys say he is the bravest man in the Italian
army."
"Perhaps he is," Lucia laughed, "but he is my soldier of the pennies,
just the same, that's the name I love him by."
"But I don't understand," Maria protested, "did you know him before?"
"Yes and no," Lucia teased. "I did not know his name, or what he
looked like, but I knew there was a soldier of the pennies somewhere."
"But tell me," Maria begged. "I am so curious."
Lucia laughed. "Very well, it is a queer thing. Listen. Do you
remember how for a few days about a week before this battle, I only
brought two pails of milk to your stall in the morning?"
Maria nodded.
"Well, the rest of the milk went to Captain Riccardi, but I did not
know it. You see, one day Garibaldi ran away and went far up into the
hills. I think the guns frightened her, and of course I went after
her. I found her on a little plateau quite far up, and because I was
tired I sat down to rest, keeping tight hold of her, you may be sure.
I was dreaming and thinking, and oh, a long way off, when suddenly I
heard a voice above me. I looked up; my, but I was frightened, I can
tell you, but I could see no one. The voice said: 'Little goat herder,
will you give me a drink of milk?'"
Lucia stopped.
"Go on!" Maria exclaimed. "What did you do?"
"I am ashamed to say," Lucia replied, "I was so frightened that I ran
back down the mountain as if the evil spirit were after me, and I did
not stop until I was safe at home. Then I began to think. Of course,
at first I had thought only of an Austrian, but when I stopped to
think, I knew that Austrians don't speak such Italian--low and very
soft this was, as my mother used to speak, and your Roderigo. Well,
then of course, I wanted to die of shame; I had run away from one of
the soldiers. I thought about it all night, and I could not sleep.
Just before dawn I got up very softly and went down to the shed. I
filled two pails half-full and carried them up to the same place.
"I could not see or hear any one, but I left them, and that afternoon I
went back to see if it had been taken away. There were the empty
pails, and beside them a strip of paper with four pennies wrapped up
inside.
"After that, I took the milk up every day to the plateau, but I never
saw or heard the soldier again. Sometimes he would write me a little
note and say 'thank you,' to me, but always there was the money. So
that is why I called him my soldier of the pennies; do you see?"
"Oh, yes, how splendid!" Maria was delighted. "And to think it was
Captain Riccardi all the time. No wonder now that he talks sometimes
in his sleep of the little goat-herder and her flowered dress. He was
an observer, Roderigo told me. That is a very important thing to be,
and he was hidden high up in a tree. That is why you did not see him."
Lucia thought of the telephone.
"I know now, of course, for I saw him climb up it and talk over the
wire to the soldiers miles away," she exclaimed. "But how could I
think to look in a tree for a soldier?" she laughed.
A bell tinkled, and Maria sprang up.
"I must go, it is my time to be on duty," she said, smoothing her apron
and settling her cap importantly, "I will come back when I can."
Lucia looked envious. "Do not be long," she called after her.
She settled back with a sigh, and the little goat came over to have her
neck patted. Lucia stroked it lovingly.
"Garibaldi," she said aloud, "we are in a dream, you and I, and soon we
will both wake up and find ourselves back in the white cottage with
Nana scolding because we are late for supper. And we'll be sorry too,
won't we? For that will mean that the beautiful sheets and the soft
pillow will vanish the way they do in the fairy tales, and this lovely
garden will go too."
"But what if there were another one to take its place?" a voice
inquired from the doorway.